


Cursed

by MsImpala67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fuck Or Die, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Maybe A Little Plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12361326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsImpala67/pseuds/MsImpala67
Summary: Dean and Sam get hit with a lust spell. But the joke's on the witch- they've been fucking for years.





	Cursed

The witch stares at them with cold, dark eyes, hands twisted in front of her in some ritual Dean doesn’t recognize but doesn’t need to. It’s always the same. Some crazy ass curse that’s going to scare the shit out of them, leave one or both of them in close-to-death danger until they figure out how to beat it. 

The bone-deep terror settles in as he braces for whatever the witch is about to throw at them, but it feels distant now. Familiar enough that he knows how to handle it. His arm reaches out for Sam in an instinctual movement he’s practiced since Sam was born, and their hands clutch at jacket sleeves together, waiting. 

It’s warmth that hits them, thick and syrupy warmth that spreads through Dean’s chest and into his limbs. He looks over at Sam, who just raises his eyebrows to tell Dean _yes, I feel it too_ and _no, I don’t know what it is_. 

“What the hell was that?” Dean asks, half-expecting the witch to just disappear without a word.

She grins, more of a snarl as her lips curl back over her teeth. “Don’t you feel it?”

“A love spell?” Sam asks, voice a little slow, like the feeling inside of them now. “Or a lust spell?”

“Does it matter?” the witch asks.

“Not really,” Dean shrugs.

“You’re still brothers either way, aren’t you? The spell won’t physically hurt you if you give into it. But you won’t, will you? Wouldn’t be able to handle the horror of that. The guilt of it. You’ll let this eat you alive. Slowly.”

Without warning, the warmth in Dean turns hot, sinks low in his gut and sends a soft ache through his dick. “Lust spell,” he announces.

Sam nods without looking away from the witch, the edges of his lips turning up in a smirk so slightly that Dean’s certain he’s the only one who can see it. “So, if we do give in, what happens to us?”

The witch actually looks a little surprised, and Dean almost rolls his eyes at her. “What?” she hedges, trying to read the situation and failing, finding nothing to read in Sam’s blank expression. “You’re actually considering this?”

“Should we tell her, Sammy?” Dean sighs, feigning calm that he doesn’t feel, that he won’t feel until Sam’s out of immediate danger.

She snorts with fake confidence. “Tell me what?”

Dean pulls away from Sam and stands a little straighter, a smirk playing on his lips. “You should know that Sammy and I have been fucking since we were teenagers. So this lust spell? It’s just magical viagra.”

The witch looks stunned, jaw dropping open.

“So how long we got? I hope at least a couple of days. Give us time to really enjoy the rush a little.”

“You’re sick.”

“Hey, lady, I ain’t the one casting spells on brothers, tryin’ to get them to die of unresolved hard-ons for each other.”

She glares at him, opens her mouth and raises her hands. They both pull their guns, but not fast enough, and she’s gone in a flash, leaving them alone in the house with nothing but the spell to prove she’d ever been there. 

“What do you think?” Dean asks. 

“I think I’m hard,” Sam sighs, a little uncomfortable but mostly just resigned, like this isn’t a fucking weird thing to happen. “And that we should probably get out of here.”

They don’t speak again until they’re in the Impala, tires screeching as Dean steers them back to the highway. 

“What now?” Dean asks. “Track her down? Or do you think we should figure out this spell first?”

Sam shifts in his seat, and Dean can feel what he’s feeling, the tight throb of the spell, the thick pulse of blood. “I think she was telling the truth. I think if we just let it ride itself out, then…”

Dean’s whole body bristles at Sam’s words. “You mean, if _you_ ride it out.”

Sam huffs out a breath, rolling his eyes at Dean’s lame joke but still obviously affected by it. The car seems to grow a little steamy as they drive, total darkness around them except for the headlights on the road. Dean breathes a little heavier and wonders how bad this is gonna get. They’re a good thirty miles from anywhere, let alone a motel. 

“Dean…” 

“I know, Sammy.”

Sam’s lips are at his neck then, that long body slammed across the seat to press into his side. “I just…I have to touch you,” Sam murmurs, hand sliding over Dean’s chest as his tongue traces the shell of Dean’s ear.

It’s like electricity in Dean’s blood. More than usual. It’s like Dean’s already on the edge of coming, like they’ve been at this for hours and he’s wound up for it, desperate for it. He spreads his legs as best he can while keeping his foot on the gas, making room for Sam’s hand to slide down and squeeze at his dick through his jeans. 

“Gotta let me suck on it, De. Please.”

Dean groans, low and deep for Sam’s words, for the need in his voice, like he’s a cock-hungry seventeen year old again, like he’s Dean’s little Sammy, desperate to get him into a gas station bathroom or a motel shower and drop to his knees. 

“Yeah, Sammy.” Dean drives with one hand, fumbles with his zipper with the other, knuckles bumping into Sam’s, still rubbing and pressing against his swollen cock. “Suck me off. Wanna feel that mouth.”

The words are true, no doubt about it, but they feel like they’re coming from somewhere other than Dean. They’re coming from the spell, feverish and sloppy as they slide off Dean’s tongue. 

Sam doesn’t seem to mind. The second Dean has his jeans open, Sam’s shoving his hand down, pulling Dean’s cock out and tonguing it like he’s making out with it, like he has to taste the drops of precome, like he has to treat the head of Dean’s cock like a sucker. That’s the spell, too, Dean knows. Sam isn’t usually so messy.

The car swerves and Dean groans out a “wait, just a second” as he brakes and eases the car off the side of the road. Sam groans and whines like it’s painful to stop, even for just a few seconds. Dean feels it bubble up inside of him, the magnetic pull toward Sam’s mouth, how wrong it is to separate even for the few seconds it takes Dean to shut off the engine.

“Sammy,” he breathes, his own need taking over now. “Need to touch you, too.”

His fingers itch and his mouth is watering, desperate for Sam, to touch and bite and kiss and explore. 

“Come on.”

They stumble out of the car together, Sam coming out Dean’s side so they can hold onto each other, so their mouths can meet as they fall up to the hood of the car, tripping over each other’s feet, Dean’s legs trapped in his half-off jeans. 

They slam down on the hood, Dean pushing Sam until he’s bent backwards, looking up at Dean with a strange, not quite right expression that makes Dean’s dick throb anyway. He pushes his own pants down to his knees and groans when Sam instantly reaches for him, stroking hard and fast and almost painful, just like Dean needs right now. 

“Come on, Dean,” Sam whimpers. “Touch me.”

Dean takes a second to slide his hands up underneath Sam’s shirt, wanting to feel that flat stomach, that tiny waist, but it isn’t enough, and he doesn’t stay there long. He isn’t gentle as he shoves Sam’s pants down to just above his knees, just enough that he can get his hands on that huge dick, burning hot and pulsing in his hand. 

Their hips slide together as they jerk each other off between biting kisses, grunting and groaning in primal, needy sounds now that they’re close, now that they’re giving the spell what it wants. 

Dean can feel the orgasm building inside of him, huge and powerful and maybe more than Dean can handle. It’s a little frightening, but there’s nothing to be done now, absolutely nothing that could make his hips stop moving. 

Sam all but shouts when Dean pulls their hands away and just digs in with his hips, pushing their cocks together and humping up against him. “Dean…God, Dean, I need…fuck, just…harder…”

Dean needs it harder too, needs more of Sam. All of Sam. He leans down to kiss Sam as he thrusts, rubbing their tongues together in the same rhythm as their dicks, hands finding Sam’s and holding on. Sam babbles something into his mouth, but he doesn’t break the kiss to figure out the words, doesn’t care, knows what Sam means anyway. 

He can feel Sam’s orgasm coming on like he can his own, can feel the trembling deep in Sam’s chest, the shaking of his legs. 

“Come on,” Dean gasps. “Come with me.”

Their hands move like they aren’t in control at all now, like the spell thrumming through them has all the power, reaching for each other’s cocks. They grasp almost too hard, magical energy pushing their wrists to pump faster, but Dean isn’t afraid. Not with Sam beneath him. 

The orgasm slams into him like a tidal wave. It knocks the breath out of both of them, and for a moment, there’s just silence as they stare at each other, open mouths and pulsing dicks as they come harder than they ever have. It’s hot and thick and sticky on their fingers, almost never-ending as wave after wave breaks inside of them, dicks twitching with every single one. 

Finally, Sam’s able to breathe again, and he pushes out his exhale on a loud shout of Dean’s name, a release that Dean can feel in his very bones. He catches his own breath, buries his head in Sam’s chest and groans from his gut, hand falling limply at his side. 

“Are you…are you okay?” Sam asks a few minutes later. Neither of them have moved an inch, the mess between them dripping onto the ground as their dicks soften against each other. 

Dean nods weakly. “I think so. You?”

Dean feels Sam’s nod and breathes a little easier. He can sense the spell draining out of them, can see it in the way Sam’s shoulders are drawing up like he’s back in control of them, can feel it in the way the night air is actually cooling his hot skin now. 

“Come on. Let’s get goin’.”

Sam raises his eyebrows in a silent question even as he stands up and pulls up his jeans. 

“We’re going to get a motel and get cleaned up,” Dean tells him.

Sam nods. “And then we have a witch to hunt.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! XOXO


End file.
